


Hizou (Treasure)

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Challenge Response, Community: salt_burn_porn, Loneliness, M/M, Mystery, Pirates vs Ninjas, Sailing, Scars, Sexual Content, Suspicions, Topping from the Bottom, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is First Mate on a charter ship carrying precious cargo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hizou (Treasure)

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** written for [](http://salt-burn-porn.livejournal.com/profile)[**salt_burn_porn**](http://salt-burn-porn.livejournal.com/) for [](http://framedhim.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://framedhim.livejournal.com/)**framedhim** 's prompt 'silver discs'. Ran out of time in the end, such is life

 

'A treasure of great value', the scroll proclaimed. Or so Jared had been told.

The paper was fine and smooth to the touch, quite unlike any he'd handled before, and the script it displayed was written of fine brushstrokes made in jet-black ink. He recognised it as Asian – any well-versed traveller would – but any more specific and he'd be guessing. The Captain had told him what the scroll said, however, even if he hadn't said what language it was. It was a contract regarding the safe passage of said 'treasure' to the shores of Morocco. Some great Emperor was awaiting its arrival, and they were expected to protect it at all costs, to their last breath if it came to that. Else their lives would be forfeit by formal decree.

It wouldn't get that far, though. The Banshee was the sleekest ship on the water, and between the Captain and himself they'd lived through just about every encounter the ocean had to offer. They may not have been royally sanctioned or one of a government's fleet, but Jeff was about as respected a captain as they came. Many opposed his take-no-prisoners methods, and he'd been threatened with death and imprisonment on many an occasion, but everyone knew that if you needed a job done quickly and quietly, Jeff was your man.

Taking one last look over the scroll, Jared dipped his quill in his favoured blue ink and signed his name under Jeff's. He blotted it dry and then rolled and tied the paper, quickly running back up on deck. Their cargo was waiting.

 

~///~

 

They came aboard only minutes before cast-off, a bag heavy with gold landing in Jeff's outstretched hands. They would get the other half of it once they had delivered the treasure safely.

It was escorted by only two men. The one that did all the talking was dressed in layers of courtly robes, rich reds and oranges decorated with fine embroidery and sleeves that draped nearly to the ground. He acknowledged the Captain warmly and introduced himself as Misha – he had not a name nor the appearance of any Asian that Jared had encountered before, but it was not his place to question it. The second man stood behind Misha, so still Jared had to wonder if he even breathed. He was practically wrapped in black, everywhere but a sliver across his eyes was covered, and two swords – one long, one slightly shorter – were strapped to his back. He carried in his hands a small wooden chest, and Jared could only imagine what amazing sorts of gold or jewels it may have held.

Jeff ushered them toward his personal quarters at the front of the ship, but not once was the man in black even acknowledged.

 

~///~

 

Dinner was served to just the four of them, ensconced in the Captain's office where they poured over maps of the European coastline, discussing which route they should take south. Misha was fascinated by their maps and navigational tools, and posed questions every step of the way. Jeff answered in brief, deferring to Jared to fill in the details. The Captain had always said he had a particular way about him – an earnestness that swept people up in his spell. And certainly Misha seemed enraptured by his words.

It wasn't until they sat down to eat that Misha turned to the second man, who up to that point had been lurking in the shadows, the wooden chest at his feet. Misha named him Jensen and beckoned him to the table, where he served food onto his plate only to then turn his back to the table and eat from his lap.

Jared's confusion clearly showed on his face as Misha placated him with an ambiguous smile.

"Jensen has been trained to fight from childhood. He is claimed to be the most lethal man in seven kingdoms. It is important he does not reveal himself without cause."

Jared nodded and took another bite from his plate. He could see the sense in it, to be sure, but he imagined what an isolated existence it must have been.

"I guess that goes for his voice as well as his face," Jeff said with a well-meaning laugh.

Misha only smiled again in return. "Jensen does not speak."

 

~///~

 

Five days passed.

Jeff kept to his usual routines. Misha appeared in ever more colourful robes, relentlessly asking questions about whatever seafaring know-how had caught his interest.

Jared did his best to keep focussed but found himself drifting whenever Jensen slipped through his periphery.

Not that he moved a lot. He seemed able to remain still as a statue for hours on end. But then when he did move it was with the stealth and efficiency of a weapon made real, yet graceful like the flow of the sea. Too often Jensen found him staring, piercing green eyes catching him red-handed. It must have been part of his power that he could feel eyes on the back of his neck, and no doubt he had the skill to pluck out those same eyes quicker than you could blink. The thought sent shivers all the way down to Jared's toes.

 

~///~

 

"Do you think I'm being paranoid when I say I've got a bad feeling?"

Jared blinked. "I trust your judgement, Jeff. You know that."

"Then I trust you to try and get a look inside that chest. Something feels… off."

 

~///~

 

Jensen occupied the quarters next to his, but Jared wasn't so surprised to suddenly find a dark figure looming on the edge of the candlelight in his room as if it had simply appeared out of nowhere. The door usually creaked when it opened, and the floorboards weren't the most sturdy, but Jared supposed that if anyone could sneak in without a sound…

He put down the book that he'd been reading and sat up on the thin mattress, waiting. Jensen lingered in the dark, but Jared could hear the faint _scritch scritch_ of fabric, and then there materialised a face before him, pale and perfect and _enticing_. Jared's mouth went dry as Jensen approached, casting off the fabric of his masked hood, not knowing whether he should have been feeling aroused or terrified. Rather, it was both. Jensen's motives revealed themselves, however, when he eased smoothly onto the mattress, perching himself atop Jared's thighs, almost catlike in his poise.

They were of a height this way, and Jared leaned in close, watching those eyes for any change in demeanour until he finally pressed their lips together. There was a pause before something in Jensen's body seemed to _give_ , and then he was melting into Jared's mouth, searching and tasting as his arms draped around Jared's shoulders to draw him closer. Jared groaned hungrily as their hips rocked together, and he pulled back, cupping Jensen's face in one hand, wanting to get a long absorbing look at his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

The picture fell away almost immediately when he saw the scar.

Jared's thumb edged close to it and Jensen reacted with a sharp inhalation of breath.

The thin, white line stretched across the curve of his throat, evidently slicing through his larynx. Misha hadn't been kidding.

"It doesn't matter," Jared said, "As long as you want to be here…"

Jensen pushed Jared's hands down to his waist, so close to where his cock was straining through his pants, and Jared figured that was enough of an answer.

"Want you," he whispered, perhaps the greatest understatement he'd ever expressed. And as if it were some kind of cue, they both stood to undress – Jared kicking off his pants and unbuttoning his shirt, while Jensen practically _unwound_ himself from the long strips of fabric that somehow made up his clothing.

And then Jared was being pushed firmly back down to the cot, Jensen climbing on top of him again and taking his cock in hand, stroking the length of it hard and fast. Jared yelped at the unexpected intensity of Jensen's touch, watching in near disbelief as the fingers of Jensen's other hand quickly disappeared behind him. It didn't take Jared long to see that those fingers were already slick, and it occurred to him that Jensen had come to him already prepared. Lord have mercy. The thought only made him harder.

"Do it already."

Jensen wasn't wasting any time, so neither did Jared. They both knew what they wanted, had been eyeing each other for a week already, and Jensen made no fanfare about taking Jared's cock into his body, only slowing once he'd buried Jared to the hilt. It was hot and tight and perfect, and Jared pulled Jensen to his lips again, swallowing whatever sounds either of them tried to make. There was no way he could look poorly on such strength the likes of which Jensen had, so difficult as it was, Jared reigned in his own voice. They could be equal in this, he decided, it was the least Jensen deserved.

 

~///~

 

There was no lock of any kind. Not even a simple one. So Jared's heart was in his throat as he pushed open the lid of the wooden chest, afraid of what might leap out at him from inside.

He was understandably lost, though, when all he found inside were a few handfuls of plain, silver coins. They weren't even shiny and new. Rather, they were only slightly old and notably well-handled, stained from passing through the hands of many. The design on the sides wasn't familiar to him, but Jared knew a boring old penny when he saw one - occupational hazard or some such.

Jared didn't even flinch when he turned to find Jensen standing over his shoulder, expression completely blank. He stood to face him, and had to tamp down hard on the sudden, overwhelming _need_ to touch.

And then it hit him.

"It's you, isn't it."

He knew he was right. Even before Jensen nodded in response.

"The chest is a diversion."

Jensen nodded again.

"You don't want to go, do you?"

His expression never changed, but Jensen grabbed his hands and squeezed.

Jared's heart squeezed with them.

Jeff would never forgive him, but when they reached the dazzling shores of Morocco, Jared was going to run to dry land in a way he never had before. With precious treasure in his hands.

~end~


End file.
